


Discretion

by lissaline



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, In the first chapter, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lissaline/pseuds/lissaline
Summary: We're all on the same page that Malcolm is definitely a sub right? I just have not been able to stop thinking about his subby past since that scene where him and Edrisa discuss BDSM rope, and this is the unfortunate result.This story starts immediately after the scene/day in Pied-A-Terre when Simone and Malcolm almost have sex, after that it will be canon divergent.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell/JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is some dub-con in this chapter where Malcolm says he doesn't need a safe word and the dom accepts this and then goes too far despite Malcolm giving signs that he wants to stop.

Malcolm got home that night, drank two fingers of whiskey, and strapped himself in for bed. For the first time since coming back to New York, he didn’t lay awake thinking about the girl in the box. He still laid awake, of course, but this time it was because he was imagining that he could still feel the sting where Simone’s hand struck him. He shivered, remembering the feel of her nails catching on his skin. He wished they had dug in, drawn blood. He felt himself start to get hard, heat building in his lower belly. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, before clicking the restraints open. 

He took the subway down, not wanting to give the address to a cabbie. The smell of the building instantly brought him back, gave him the same feeling of nervous dread and excitement as always. It had really been too long. He had looked for a place like this in Washington, but nowhere else made him feel quite right.

A woman he didn’t recognize was bartending. He ordered a drink and looked around, taking in the room. That was another thing he loved about this place. No restrictions on serving alcohol. He knew other clubs frowned upon drinking and playing, but he had never understood how other people could do this, give up control like this, sober.

Finally his eyes landed on someone who fit the profile he was looking for. He was sitting alone in a booth near the back, nursing a beer. He was good looking and muscular, big enough that he looked like he could hold Malcolm down and push him around with ease. The fact that someone like that hadn’t found a partner yet indicated that there was something off about him, some reason that the other patrons were hesitant to play with him. Perfect. As he started to make his way over to him, his theory was even further proven when the bartender reached out to catch his elbow. 

“Hey, man,” she said, talking loudly to be heard over the pounding music. “I don’t think you want to do that. Robert’s known for being too rough with subs.”

Malcolm smiled at her and slid a healthy tip across the bar, before gently pulling his arm free and continuing to make his way over to Robert.

He found it was best to be direct in these situations, so rather than waste time with words, Malcolm simply knelt at Robert’s knees when he reached him. Robert hadn’t noticed him approaching, his eyes going a little wide when he noticed him kneeling there, before his expression melted into smug satisfaction. 

“Well hello there, beautiful.” His voice made a shiver run down Malcolm’s spine. He smiled up at him, confident he had made the right choice. “What’s your name?”

“Malcolm, sir.”

“Would you like to be my good boy, Malcolm?”

“Yes please, sir.”

They made their way into one of the back rooms. Robert didn’t need to speak with anyone, so he guessed he booked it beforehand, confident he would find a partner despite his reputation. 

“What’s your safeword, boy?” Robert said once the door closed behind them. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t be using one.”

Robert hesitated for a moment, and Malcolm could tell he was debating whether to put up a token protest or do what he really wanted and take him at his word. Malcolm decided to speed up the process by kneeling for him again.

“I’ll do anything you want, sir. I promise I can take it.”

From this close, Malcolm could see Robert’s dick twitch in his pants. 

Robert ended up having him strip and tying him to the pommel horse, belly down, his legs and arms hugging the sides. He saw Robert smirk as he noticed the bruises already on his wrists. The restraints were good for one thing, they let people know he could take it rough. 

Malcolm tugged a little on the ropes when he was done, and they were satisfyingly tight. This place didn’t have the highest quality stuff either, and they were rough enough that he knew they would chafe nicely if he moved around enough. As the fact that he really couldn’t move settled into his bones, Malcolm felt the tension leave his body a little. 

Robert ran a proprietary hand down his spine, curving around his ass and squeezing hard.

“How does that feel, boy?”

It took Malcolm a second to find his words. 

“Good, sir. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Malcolm felt the air rushing a moment before Robert’s hand came down hard, hitting him at the spot where his thigh met his ass. He sucked in a breath as the force rocked him forward on the horse, rubbing his dick where it was pressed between the smooth material and his belly. He had been hard since they entered the room, and it was starting to ache in the most wonderful way. He bit down on the whimper that wanted to get out.

“I’m gonna make this ass nice and warm for me boy.”

“Yes, please sir,” Malcolm gasped.

Things got a little fuzzy after that, the time seeming to slow down and speed up at strange intervals as Robert “warmed him up” with his hand, and then the paddle. Malcolm had stopped trying to hold in his noises a while ago, and now moaned openly with each hit. His whole body had started to feel tingly and numb, like he might fly away at any moment. Each moment of impact pushed him higher, until he realized distantly that he might come. He didn’t think there was anything he could do about it, it seemed like a forgone conclusion. He realized he should tell Sir; maybe he wouldn’t want him to come. He opened his mouth, about to try to remember how to talk again, when a sharp, sudden pain, so much sharper than the others, jolted him out of whatever headspace he was in. Instead of words, a high keen came out of him, and he tried to turn his head back to see what had happened.

Sir was holding a long, thin cane, and looking down at Malcolm’s ass like he was hungry. He noticed Malcolm looking at him and smiled. 

“You like that, don’t you boy?” He said, his voice rough. He had his cock out, Malcolm saw, and was stroking it slowly. It was big. He wondered if he was going to fuck him. What was he thinking about again? Then Sir raised the cane again. It whistled through the air and struck him on a place that already felt too raw. Now that Malcolm was a little bit more in his body, he felt how incredibly sore he was. How long had he been hitting him? What if Gil called him to go into work tomorrow? What was he going to do? 

He realized with distant horror that he was crying a little, the tears hot on his face. He turned back to try to hide his face against the horse.

“Aw, poor baby,” Sir said, sneering. Suddenly a rough hand reached underneath him to grip his cock. He had softened a little from the cane, but he was still hard, and there was a pool of precum drying underneath him. “This says you like it, you little pain slut. Take 5 more for me and then we can be done, alright?”

He was a slut, nothing but a slut, just a dirty whore. But Sir had asked something of him. He had already forgotten the question, but he nodded anyways, the right answer was usually yes in situations like this. 

The cane came down 5 more times, and then Malcolm heard sir grunt behind him, and he braced a hand on Malcolm’s back while he came. It made Malcolm feel small, like nothing more than a table to rest your hand on. He kind of liked it, and he kind of liked the pain in his ass, even though he knew it was too much and he thought he was probably bleeding. Because it meant he had been good for Sir, and Sir was happy with him. 

Sir - no, Robert - untied him, and helped him get dressed, and even called him a cab. He looked a little worried as he bundled him into the backseat, and Malcolm tried to give him a smile but it felt weird on his face. 

“You gonna be alright, kid?”

Malcolm’s stomach lurched a little at the use of Gil’s nickname, but he kept trying to smile. He didn’t know what his voice would sound like just then, so he nodded instead.

Robert gave him a dubious but relieved look and then closed the door of the cab. Malcolm couldn’t blame him; he was a lot to deal with. 

He woke up the next morning feeling hungover, like he always did after encounters like this. They always left him feeling wrung out, sore, and more than a little disgusted with himself. But he couldn’t stop himself from craving it - the pain, the loss of control. And it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve the punishment. Every time he went to that club he felt like he was helping the universe balance itself out. 

But as he sat up in bed and immediately had to lie back down, he realized that he really had done too much last night. He had been so out of it when he got home that he hadn’t even checked if he was bleeding. Now, moving at a glacial pace, he dragged himself into the bathroom and looked in the full length mirror. 

It wasn’t great. Dark bruises, some clearly hand-shaped, criss-crossed with welts from the cane. Luckily, it looked like only two had bled, and those had scabbed over. He dug in his cabinet for some bruise cream and antibiotic ointment, both of which were expired, but only slightly. 

He felt a bit better once that was done, and he could cover up all the mess with a pair of sweatpants. Sure, he still wasn’t moving great, but with any luck there wouldn’t be any new cases and he could have a few days to recover.

With his luck being what it was, Malcolm wasn’t exactly surprised when his phone rang a few moments later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that in the episode the case with Simone doesn't finish until later, but please everyone ignore that!

Gil met him outside his building, leaning on that old car like always. Malcolm felt a little better already at the sight of him, especially when Gil came forward and clapped him on the back.

“You look awful, kid,” he greeted, and then Malcolm felt like shit again. “Late night?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes and tried not to wish that they still hugged like they used to when he was younger. “You know me, always burning the midnight oil.”

Gil handed him the file once they got in the car. The new victim stared up at him from the glossy picture. Malcolm closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself into the right mindset. This was a puzzle, and he was going to solve it. 

Based on what Gil had told him on the phone, there were already three victims, but Major Crimes hadn’t been called in because no one noticed a connection until that morning. Apparently all three of the vics’ daughters went to the same high school. Malcolm was deep in thought, so it took him awhile to realize that Gil kept glancing over at him.

“What?” He said without looking up.

“What - nothing!” Gil said, embarrassed at being caught. “Just - are you sure you’re alright?”

Malcolm tried not to wince. Was it that obvious? He needed to pull himself together. 

“I’m fine, just more bad dreams, you know.”

Gil nodded, looking sad. He was always making Gil look sad. He reached over and squeezed the back of Malcolm’s neck, and Malcolm leaned into it a little more than usual. 

“I’m always here if you want to talk, you know that kid?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Malcolm didn’t know what was wrong with him. He usually only got this way after at least three nights of no sleep, but he had gotten almost 12 hours in the past few nights combined. More than enough. But despite that he felt like he couldn’t concentrate, like his head was full of cotton. JT was trying to brief the team, and Malcolm kept finding his mind wandering. He dug his nails into his thigh. Focus.

Even in the morgue, where he usually felt most alert and stimulated, he had to force himself to listen to Edrisa. She kept shooting him funny looks, too, like she could tell. Unacceptable. 

She stopped him as the team was leaving.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” she murmured quietly.

JT turned around when he noticed Malcolm wasn’t with them and gave him a questioning look. Malcolm nodded at him to go.

“What’s up?” Malcolm said. “I’m sorry I was kind of out of it back there.” 

Edrisa was looking at him closely, and she didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she turned abruptly and went to a cabinet at the side of the room. She pulled open a drawer and Malcolm looked to see it was absolutely full of snacks. He couldn’t help but smile a little. 

Edrisa pulled out a chocolate bar and pressed it into his hand.

“That should help.”

“Help...with what?”

Now Edrisa looked distinctly unimpressed. 

“With your drop. I’m sorry you’re going through this, I’ve been there and I know it’s shit. I can’t believe you came into work, actually.”

Malcolm suddenly felt a little light headed. A fucking drop, of course. It was so obvious now. He hadn’t had one since college, and now that he thought about it all the same signs were there.

Edrisa’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, sorry, did you not realize? I didn’t mean to like, overstep, I just thought…”

“No, no,” Malcolm cut her off. He could feel his face starting to heat up and he rubbed a hand over it. “Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think... I feel like an idiot now.”

Edrisa shook her head. 

“You’re not an idiot. Do you want to sit down, talk for a bit? You could watch me do an autopsy?”

Malcolm laughed a little, but it sounded forced. 

“That’s okay, I should catch up with the rest of the team. Thanks, Edrisa, really.”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but Malcolm needed to get out of there. Knowing what the hell was wrong with him didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse because he had absolutely no idea how to solve this problem. In college, he dropped after his boyfriend dumped him during a scene, and he dealt with that by not getting out of bed for a week. That wasn’t exactly an option now, not with Gil and the team depending on him. 

He decided to do what he did best, that being to suppress the hell out of it. At least until he had time to take these feelings out and examine them.

Back at the precinct, he was discovering that suppression was slightly more difficult with an extremely sore ass constantly reminding you of your predicament. Gil was briefing the uniformed officers about the latest developments in the case, and he couldn’t sit still. Every position he tried hurt more than the last. After the fourth funny look from Dani, he decided to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

He locked the door and eased his pants down in front of the mirror. It wasn’t great. One of the welts had opened up again and was slowly trickling blood, and the rest looked angry and irritated. He was debating the merit of trying to grab the antibiotic ointment from his bag without anyone noticing when the door swung open. 

He yanked his pants back up, but from the look on Gil’s face it was clear he had seen. They stared at each other in silence.

“I locked the door.” Malcolm forced out eventually.

“Lock doesn’t work.” 

“Right.”

Malcolm nodded, did up his belt, and bolted. He heard Gil call after him, but he didn’t turn back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the amazing [devlandiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devlandiablo) for editing, brainstorming with me, and pointing out that you can't see a cane with a blindfold on lol, you are great!
> 
> Gil cooking Filipino food for Malcolm is inspired by the beautiful story [To Be Normal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641373/chapters/54113773) , which I am obsessed with.

Malcolm immediately regretted leaving the bathroom, because he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He didn’t stop walking until he was outside the precinct, and then he leaned his forehead against the cold bricks and took a few deep breaths.

_This isn't happening. This isn’t happening._ Gil did not see what he just saw. What would he think?

_You know what he’ll think. That you’re pathetic. And he’ll be right._

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push the voice from his mind. But it wasn’t wrong, was it?

“Bright?”

Malcolm jumped, then looked up to see Dani standing next to him, her brow knitted with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Malcolm pasted a smile onto his face and clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

“Yeah, sorry,” he chuckled. “I just felt a little sick.”

“When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Oh, you know.”

“I don’t,” Dani said flatly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

They stared at each other for a moment, but Malcolm was the first to break, of course.

“You’re right, I’m gonna go to the coffee cart. Do you want anything?”

Dani opened her mouth to respond, but Malcolm was already half way down the steps.

“I’ll just grab coffees for everyone!” He threw over his shoulder.

Malcolm took the long way back to the precinct. He did actually get something to eat, and with that and the fresh air, he was feeling a little clearer.

So maybe Gil saw something, maybe he didn’t. That didn’t mean anything had to change. It wasn’t like they ever had to talk about it. And maybe if Malcolm acted normal enough, Gil would convince himself his eyes were playing tricks on him.

So he handed Gil his coffee with a smile, and then immediately engaged the team in a discussion about the case. He even got to fight with JT a little, as they were currently at odds on how to proceed with the suspects. He always felt better after a verbal sparring match, and seeing that vein pop out of JT’s forehead was particularly satisfying.

Soon the team returned to their desks, individual tasks assigned. Malcolm was waiting for his computer to turn on when he noticed a little bottle of tylenol and a square of dark chocolate sitting by the keyboard. At first he thought it must have been Edrisa again, but looking closer he saw the chocolate was the spicy kind Jackie used to buy. He knew for a fact that Gil always kept a couple squares in his desk.

He swept both items into his drawer while keeping his gaze carefully straight ahead.

Okay, so maybe Gil wasn’t going to just let it go. That was okay, he would just avoid being alone with him for a little while, just in case he tried to talk about it. The thing was, Gil worried about him, and he didn’t need to. Sure, Malcolm had gotten in over his head, but it wasn’t like it was the first time, and he was an expert at treading water.

Unfortunately with a team as small as theirs, subtly avoiding one member was exhausting, and by the time Malcolm got home he was ready to shackle himself into bed and never get up again. So when the buzzer went soon after he got in, he seriously considered ignoring it. It might have been his mother or Ainsley though, so he pressed the intercom button.

It wasn’t.

“Hey, kid. Mind if I come up?”

Malcolm froze with his finger on the button. There was silence for a moment, and then when Gil realized he wasn’t going to get a reply, he offered, “I’ve got food?”

Malcolm sighed. Who was he kidding. He couldn’t shut Gil out. He needed him too much, had needed him ever since he was eleven years old. He unlocked the door.

Malcolm was expecting an ambush as soon as Gil came up the stairs, but Gil just smiled at him warmly and set down a couple of grocery bags on the counter.

“I thought I would make pancit,” he said as he started unpacking noodles, cabbage, green onions. Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. It was what Jackie always used to make when she could tell something was up with him, whether it was a visit with his father or the kids at school being especially vicious. Nothing ever seemed as dire after a bowl of Jackie’s pancit.

Malcolm watched him for a minute as he puttered around the kitchen, pulling out a large saucepan because he knew Malcolm didn’t have a wok. Despite what had happened, Malcolm felt so comforted by his presence. Everything about him was familiar, his scent, his clothes, the way he hummed to himself as he chopped vegetables.

Said humming stopped then, and Gil threw him an exasperated lexasperated ook.

“Are you gonna help, or are you just gonna stand there, city boy?”

Malcolm laughed and took the knife Gil held out to him. He got to work slicing the cabbage as thinly as he could.

For the next half hour they worked in comfortable silence. Malcolm had forgotten how soothing cooking could be, and he made a mental note to order less take out.

But the calm couldn’t last forever. When the noodles were simmering in the broth, Gil grabbed them both a beer out of the fridge and gestured for Malcolm to sit on the couch with him. Malcolm thought about refusing for a second, but couldn’t come up with a valid excuse.

Malcolm had a sudden memory of getting The Talk from Jackie and Gil, something that was deeply painful for all three of them. He couldn’t help but feel it was about to happen all over again.

“Listen, Gil…”

“No Malcolm, let me say this,” Gil said, firm but still gentle. “I know this is your private life, and it’s none of my business. But what I don’t think you understand is that there are people who care about you, who want to know when you’re hurting. People who want to take care of you.”

Malcolm’s hand had started to shake, and he hid it under his thigh. He felt sick, he was sick because the truth was he wanted his private life to be Gil’s business. The truth that Gil could never, never know was that every time Malcolm had ever been in subspace, he wished it was Gil that had put him there.

But he was waiting for some kind of answer, and Malcolm had to say something.

“I just...I can’t talk about it Gil. Please.”

“That’s fine,” Gil nodded. “It was consensual?”

Gil was looking at him so seriously, like he was the only important thing in the world. Malcolm nodded stiffly.

“Alright,” Gil said. He tried to hide it, but Malcolm could hear the relief in his voice. “That’s good, kid. That’s good. I won’t make you talk about it anymore. As long as you know that when you can, I’ll be right here.”

With that Gil got up and headed back to the kitchen, taking two bowls down from the shelf. Apparently he was happy to leave it there, and Malcolm was so grateful he could have cried.

They sat and ate their noodles, talking about the case and Jessica’s latest charity project. Malcolm felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

“Just one more thing,” Gil said later as they stood side by side doing the dishes. “Have you been to a doctor?”

“Gil…” Malcolm started, his face burning.

“I know, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But what I saw...it looked pretty bad, Bright. It could get infected.”

Malcolm turned away, putting their spoons back in the drawer. “It won’t get infected. I’m putting antibiotic ointment on it.”

“That might not be good enough, you should really go to a doctor just in case…”

“Please, Gil, please. You said I didn’t have to talk about it.” Malcolm felt so ashamed, he was acting like a child, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Gil looked at him for a long time, something uncomfortably close to pity in his eyes. Finally he nodded.

“Where’s the ointment?” He asked.

“In the bathroom,” Malcolm said, puzzled. “Why…”

But Gil had already gone, coming back in a minute wielding the little tube.

“Lie down on the bed,” he said, looking determined.

Malcolm’s face got even redder, if that were possible. “I don’t think…”

“Malcolm, please. At least let me do this for you.”

It was a dirty tactic and Gil knew it, but Malcolm sighed and laid down on his front on the bed. Gil sat beside him, and rested a hand on his lower back. The touch was intimate, but Malcolm was surprised to find it didn’t feel awkward. Gil was probably one of the few people he knew how to accept a tender touch from.

“Ready?

Malcolm nodded, not trusting his voice. Gil tucked his fingers into the waistband and Malcolm’s sweats and boxers, easing both over the swell of his ass.

There was silence. Then, quietly, “Oh, Bright.”

Malcolm buried his face into the pillow and tried to take deep breaths.

He flinched at the first touch of the ointment, more from how cold it was than the sting. Gil placed his other hand between Malcolm’s shoulder blades, his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth, hypnotizing.

He was so gentle, Malcolm could barely feel as he soothed the cream over each and every welt. He felt so cared for, his mind was so quiet.

As if from a distance, he heard Gil murmur, “There you go, you’re good, kid. You’re good. It’s over now.” But it could have been in his head.

Either way, it was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the wonderful [devlandiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devlandiablo) for editing!! 
> 
> Also, I just watched the finale, hoo baby this show is wild.

Malcolm woke up feeling well rested, which was more than a little unusual. He couldn’t remember having a single dream, hadn’t woken up screaming once. In fact, the only reason he was awake now was the strong smell of coffee and bacon wafting over him. Jessica must have broken in again.

He took a deep breath and sighed happily, then froze. His mother would never make him bacon, she hated cholesterol. 

Suddenly the night before came rushing back to him. Gil had made him dinner, Gil had seen his  _ ass.  _

Shit.

He hastily unfastened himself from his restraints and sat up to see Gil standing over his stove, in the same clothes he was wearing the night before. 

“Um,” he rasped out, then cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Gil jumped a little and turned around. 

“Hey there sleepy head,” Gil smirked at him without a trace of awkwardness. Malcolm felt his chest warm. Maybe he hadn’t messed everything up. 

He walked over to the kitchen, sinking into one of the bar stools as Gil slid a plate across to him.

“So are you my live in cook now?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Gil said, sitting down next to him.

Malcolm smiled and started to pick at his breakfast. Concentrating intently on his eggs, he forced out, “Thank you, Gil. For last night.”

Gil shook his head and put his own fork down, turning on the stool to face Malcolm fully.

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for. Look, I know it’s hard for you to believe it sometimes, but you don’t have to do everything alone. I love you, kid. I want to help you, always. I just wish you felt more comfortable with me.”

Malcolm willed himself not to blush at the  _ I love you _ . They used to say it to each other when Malcolm was younger, but it was the first time he had heard it from Gil since coming back to New York. It sounded different now.

“It’s not that, Gil. Believe me, I feel more comfortable with you than I do most people. It’s just...with something like this...it’s embarrassing. I was ashamed, I guess.”

“Bright,” Gil shook his head, with the same frustrated expression he always got when he was about to lecture Malcolm for not calling backup  _ again.  _ “Do you think you’re the first person to enjoy BDSM? To need it?” 

Malcolm opened his mouth to deny it, but Gil cut him off with a gentle hand on the back of his neck. 

“There’s a way to do it that doesn’t leave you feeling broken. There are people who can hurt you in the right way, the way you deserve.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened. He was at a loss for words. Could Gil honestly be saying what he thought he was saying? He stared at his hands folded in his laps, realizing that he had never actually taken his cuffs off. Gil had taken his own hand away, and Malcolm wished he was still touching him, grounding him. Finally he looked up, saying weakly, “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

They looked at each other for what felt like a long time, Gil’s eyes boring into his own so intently that Malcolm felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. Eventually Gil nodded, seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw in Malcolm’s face.

“Enough experience to know that you would come apart beautifully for me, and that I could put you back together again.”

Malcolm couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He would have been sure he was dreaming, if not for the fact that his dreams were never this good. He dug his nails into his palms, just to be sure. Gil sounded so certain, like this wasn’t the first time he had thought about this. Was it possible that all this time Malcolm had been pining for Gil, he had been wanting him too? It was too good to be true. Things just didn’t work out like this for Malcolm Bright.

“I know this is a lot to dump on you, kid.” Gil said, taking Malcolm’s silence for hesitance. “If you’re not interested, feel free to tell me to fuck off or -”

“I’m interested.” Malcolm blurted out. 

Gil smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. Malcolm smiled back until his face hurt. It felt like something vitally important had just clicked into place. In that moment, nothing mattered - the age difference, what his mother would think, their pasts - none of that was as important as having his feelings out in the open and knowing that they were shared. Everything else could come later. That did bring up the question of what would happen now. It was painfully tempting to just grab Gil, to let him hold Malcolm close and do whatever he wanted. But things couldn’t be that easy, could they? And maybe Malcolm was getting ahead of himself, maybe Gil didn’t actually mean he was interested in him, maybe he had somehow misinterpreted. 

Malcolm twisted his fingers together, his smile fading a little. It was probably best just to ask, before he lost his nerve. 

“So, what now?”

“Now,” Gil said, then laughed a little disbelievingly, as though this were a surprise for  _ him _ . “Now, we talk about how to do this. I’ve wanted this for...a long time. And I want to do it right.”

“Me too.” Malcolm’s smile came back in full force. That was about as clear a declaration as he could ask for. He was sure the insecurity would rush back in soon, the wondering why the  _ hell  _ someone like Gil would want someone like him. But for now he was going to enjoy this feeling.

“Have you ever worked out a contract with someone?”

That gave Malcolm pause. “Gil, I don’t think we’ll need that. I trust you.”

“I trust you too, kid. And that’s exactly why we’re going to make one.”

There wasn’t anything Gil could have said in that moment to talk him out of this, but the idea of detailing his deepest, most shameful desires, and putting them out there for someone to scrutinize was extremely unappealing. What if Gil decided it was too much, that he was too much? It was so much easier to ask for what he wanted in the moment, when everyone was hard and logic had already gone out the window.

After a brief but uncomfortable silence, Gil took pity on him and said, “I know it’s not easy to talk about these things. Why don’t you think about it, write some things down. You can start with just the things you like, if limits are harder.” 

Malcolm hadn’t even thought about limits. He tried not to sound like he was panicking as he said, “I don’t know Gil, doesn’t talking about it like this kind of take the sexiness out of it?”

Gil smiled slowly, and reached forward to curl his fingers around the cuff on Malcolm’s wrist, stilling his shaking hand. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he murmured. “I’ve always thought the talking was one of the sexiest parts. For example, I could talk about how I would take these cuffs and clip them to your headboard. Maybe I’d get some matching ones for your ankles. Do you like being tied down?”

Malcolm nodded, leaning forward in his stool without realizing it.

“Mm. I thought so. I’d want you on your front, like I had you last night. Once you couldn’t move, I’d put my mouth on every inch of you. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

“ _ Fuck.  _ Gil…”

Gil smirked. “I’d eat you out until you couldn’t take it anymore, until you were nice and wet for me, then I’d slip my fingers inside. I bet you’d make the most beautiful noises.”

Malcolm shivered, getting hard so quickly he felt a little lightheaded. “Okay, yes,” he said. “Yes to all of that. Let’s do it.”

Gil chuckled and leaned back. They had gotten so close while he was talking that Malcolm was nearly falling off his stool.

“I want to, kid. Believe me. But we need to figure this out first. You deserve to be taken care of, to be really understood. I want you to sleep on it, and send me a list, alright? I’ll work on one too.”

And then Gil was getting up, taking their plates to the sink.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you into work.”

A cold shower and a short drive later, Malcolm found himself back in the precinct. He wasn’t sure if it had been Gil’s intention, but their conversation that morning made it almost impossible to focus. He found himself staring blankly at crime scene photos, replaying Gil’s words over and over again, thinking about how it would feel to have his fingers inside of him, how they would feel so different from his own…

Even being with the rest of the team wasn’t enough to distract him. Every time he made eye contact with Dani or JT, he felt like they could tell how close he was to getting hard. He was sure they could see how flushed he was, how he couldn’t sit still.

In the middle of the day, Malcolm found himself at his desk, trying to put together a profile on a new suspect and not think about the way Gil’s hand felt around his wrist. He started when that same hand clasped around his shoulder. 

Gil leaned forward to say quietly, “Are you gonna be alright, kid? I didn’t mean to throw you off like this.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I’m fine, honestly. Sorry, Gil.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s my fault. I came on a little strong this morning.”

Malcolm coughed out a little laugh. “I wish you came on stronger.”

Gil smiled. “Are you gonna be able to make it a couple more hours?”

“Of course, I’m fine. I promise.”

Gil squeezed his shoulder one more time and went back to his own office. 

The rest of the day was marginally more productive, and if Dani or JT noticed that Malcolm couldn’t stop smiling, neither of them mentioned it. 

Gil drove him home again in the evening, even walked him up to his door. Malcolm couldn’t help feeling like he had just been taken on a date. 

“Think about what I said, okay Bright?”

Malcolm nodded, and Gil turned to go.

“Wait, Gil.”

He turned back around, looking at him expectantly. 

_ Just say it. You can do it. He probably won’t say no. _

“Just…will you kiss me? Before you go?”

Gil beamed. He stepped forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Malcolm’s neck, the other coming to rest at the small of his back. He tugged him forward gently, and Malcolm leaned up to press their lips together.

It wasn’t like the movies; choirs singing and doves flying. It was more like lying under the sun, or the first bite of something delicious. It was right, and wonderful, and perfect. Malcolm was breathless by the time they pulled apart.

“I’ll talk to you later, kid.”

He was gone before Malcolm could think of a response.

  
  



End file.
